


Fight Nights

by Elementhyde



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, Brothers, Demisexuality, Finding yourself and finding love, Found Family, MMA AU, Multi, Other, Slow Burn, Ultimate Fighting Championship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elementhyde/pseuds/Elementhyde
Summary: Arthur meets a strange man who sees something in this young man. With a little push from his best friend he embarks on a once in a lifetime adventure. Join him in the misadventures of 2 best friends and their mischievous ferret in a small Chicago suburb as they form lasting friendships and create the loving family they never had growing up.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan finds himself first, Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan, John Marston & Arthur Morgan, Sean MacGuire & John Marston
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Golden Ticket

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, welcome to my MMA AU for the boys (and girls), this has been something I have been rolling around in my head for months. If we are being completely honest I really wanted to write about beefy fight boys, as well as a modern setting for a wonderful found family. I hope you enjoy! I will be continuing Howl, but I needed to get this brainworm out, these will hopefully update more regularly now that I'm not fighting these brainworms.

The door closed gently behind him, he tossed his backpack onto the floor and hung his coat on the rack. Kicking out of his boots he tucked the butcher paper packages under his arm reaching down to shoo the ferret out of his shoe.

“C’mon Noodle, not there.” The ferret dooked and jumped back, scurrying behind John’s leg before jumping back out and chasing Arthur into the kitchen. . 

John stretched and turned from the computer, leaning back in the chair, turning toward the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?” 

“Yeah, hi to you too.” Arthur opened the fridge tossing one of the packages into the fridge, stooping down to pick up the ferret clawing up his pant leg. He draped Noodle over his shoulder and opened the cabinet pulling down a couple shakers and cans. He unwrapped the second package and grabbed for the nearest shaker. 

John rolled his eyes and turned back to the computer, typing out a few quick messages before pushing away from the monitor and joining Arthur in the kitchen. He crowded the space, trying to see past Arthur to the counter. 

“Burgers?” He fished a pop from the fridge.

“That alright?” Arthur reached over and stopped the fridge from closing, pulling some garlic and Worcestershire from the door. “If it isn’t you can make your own meal.” 

John scoffed. “It’s fine, just curious. Damn.” Arthur ignored him, working his hands through the ground beef. ”The game starts in twenty, wanna watch?”

“Who they playin’?” Arthur asked and glanced over his shoulder.

“Coyotes.” 

“If they don’t win I’m gonna have to find another team.” Arthur deadpanned, he shook his head and huffed out a laugh.

“You’ve stuck with them through worse. And they are in the running for the cup!” John countered and flipped the TV on, flopping onto the couch. 

Noodle, realizing he wasn’t getting any of the meat, got antsy on Arthur’s shoulder and began to slide his way down Arthur’s arm.

“Noodle. Hey. Hold on, just wait a second.” Arthur scolded. 

John glanced over, jumping up just in time to catch the ferret as it made it’s leap toward the counter. “You’ve got a death wish, don’t ya.” John shook him and walked back to the couch, tossing him onto the couch. 

Noodle bounced off toward the far corner of the couch, flopping onto his side. John slid back onto the couch and Noodle attacked, popping up and pouncing onto his chest, dooking softly. John poked playfully at the ferret as he picked the remote back up, trying to distract him while he changed the channel. Failing miserably as Noodle took to trying to steal the remote, the chewed and worn buttons a testament to how often he took this particular prize

The small apartment filled with the smells of food and warmth. Arthur cracked the door on the oven checking the vegetables before pulling the door open and tossing a couple rolls onto the wire rack, the burgers sizzling on the griddle. 

“Hawks won the coin toss.” John called from the sofa and Arthur glanced up at the screen. The bright banners of the United Center flashed on the screen.

“Food’ll be ready in five.” He flipped the burgers, and started on the dishes, quickly rinsing the prep dishes and putting them up to dry. John grunted as Noodle latched onto his finger. He barked and jumped off the couch, scampering into the kitchen and over Arthur’s foot. He flopped over and bit playfully at his sock. With his foot, Arthur slid Noodle across the floor and out of the kitchen. Arthur padded over to the couch and handed John a plate, motioning for him to move over. The horn sounded from the TV as the puck dropped. John shouted at the screen as the Hawks lost possession. 

The night continued, the boys arguing with the screen over the refs calls, the Hawks eking out a victory in overtime. John pushed off the couch as the post game started and Arthur reached for the remote, pulling it away from Noodle. He flipped mindlessly through the channels, distracting Noodle with a small piece of meat from his plate. 

“You done?” John pointed to the plate being licked by Noodle.

“Nah, it looks like I am still picking.” 

John picked up the plate and brought it to the sink, cleaning them and placing them on the dry rack. His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket, typing out a quick reply and grabbing a jacket and his bag, waving a quick goodbye at Arthur. 

Arthur kicked his feet up onto the couch, the theme song to _Cheers_ quickly cutting off as he flipped the channel again. He finally settled on a rerun of _Dirty Jobs_ , Noodle jumped up onto his chest, flopping over and nosing his way into Arthur’s shirt pocket. Arthur playfully grabbed at the ferret’s face, the tiny teeth lightly sunk into the side of his hand before the ferret darted to the other side of the couch and began pulling at Arthur’s socks. Noodle continued to jump around and play for a bit before settling down again on Arthur’s chest. 

Arthur blinked the sleep from his eyes, the tv playing a string of infomercials. He reached for the remote and clicked off the TV and tossed the remote onto the back of the couch. He yawned and cracked his neck, Noodle snored lightly on his chest. Arthur scooped the ferret into the crook of his arm and sat up, shuffled into the kitchen and turned off the lights. He stretched and placed the ferret onto his pillow, heading into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

He flipped off the light and slid into the lower bunk. Setting his alarm Arthur plugged in his phone and closed his eyes, feeling Noodle move to his normal resting place curled against his shoulder. 

The door opened quietly a few hours later and John slid back into the apartment, closing it behind him and disappearing into the bathroom. The light clicked off as he opened the door jumping onto the top bunk, the silence settling into the small apartment.

Arthur’s alarm went off, 6:30, the sun just starting to brighten the apartment. He pulled the covers back up in an attempt to make the bed, grabbing Noodle and putting him up onto John’s bunk. He finished getting ready for work, making himself a quick breakfast before heading off to work. 

The L was packed, the cold wet morning keeping people from walking, Arthur being one of them. The train was slower and he hated the cramped feeling. He hated the stares he got. Arthur knew he was a big guy, but here he couldn’t get away. He fished through his bag and pulled out his Zune and headphones. Quickly getting himself lost in the music. 

\-- ♦ --

Simon Pearson flipped the lights on in his small butcher shop. Cinching his apron tightly around his waist, he disappeared into the cooler, returning with a couple chickens and began prepping them to render. The delivery door swung open and he glanced over his shoulder.

“Mornin’ Arthur.” Pearson called. Arthur pushed through the door and disappeared into the small kitchen. Tossing his backpack onto the table and hanging his coat on the hooks behind the door, picking up his own apron and tying it around his waist. He rolled his sleeves up and joined Pearson near the freezer.

“Mornin’.”

“Gonna be a busy day, grab that side of beef.” Arthur nodded. 

They worked in comfortable silence until they opened for the morning. Pearson had Arthur work the front-of-house most days, he had been unsure if this kid was gonna be a good fit when he hired him a few years back, barely old enough to hold a job. But Arthur had surprised him, a quick learner and a hard worker, and surprisingly good with customers.

“I need another half rack of ribs.” Arthur called back to Pearson. 

“Heard.” Pearson called back, moving to the cooler, he pulled out a rack of ribs quickly cutting it down and wrapping it in some butcher paper. He pushed through the door to the front-of-house and handed Arthur the package. 

“How are you today, ladies?” Pearson smiled as Arthur turned back to hand the ribs to the older gentleman near the door. He took care of the women as Arthur cashed out the gentleman and the shop cleared out.

The day came to a close and Arthur cleaned up and took the final inventory of the case for the day. Pulling a few of the steaks from the case and a handful of brats. He packaged them up and put them into the back of the case. 

“Got the final numbers for today, I’m also taking a couple of the porterhouses and some brats for the weekend, I put those under my list.” Arthur handed him the clipboard. “Need help cleaning up back here? I’m all done up front.” Pearson waved him off, wiping down the table.

“Get out of here, I’ll be fine. Have a good night, I’ll see you in the morning.” Arthur thanked him and grabbed his things, heading out the door.

\-- ♦ --

John rolled out of his bed and padded into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Fixing himself some food he found his way to the couch. Flipping through the channels he stopped on a _Scooby-Doo_ marathon.

His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter and he glanced over toward the clock. He pushed himself up from the couch and dropped his bowl into the sink, reaching for his phone. 

_Hey. You holding?_

_Yeah. Whatcha need?_

_1/2 oz_

_Cool. Meet me at Jefferson Park. 3pm._

John threw the phone back on the counter and went into the bathroom, the ferret stretching deeply on his pillow as he passed. He showered and shaved, catching himself in the mirror, he sighed. He rubbed the towel through his hair before tossing it over the door. He got dressed and picked Noodle up off his bed, draping him around his neck and grabbing him some food for him from the kitchen. Noodle bounced excitedly on his shoulder, climbing his way down John’s arm as they moved through the apartment. He set the food down and unloaded Noodle into the cat tree to eat.

He rummaged under the bed, pulling out a box and putting it up on the desk, pushing his keyboard out of the way he sat down at the desk. He weighed and portioned out his remaining product, setting aside the ½ oz requested. 

He didn’t normally deal with larger portions than dimes, preferring not to have too much on him at any time. He knew how much Arthur hated that he still sold, but he couldn’t complain about the extra money. 

_“You aren’t a kid anymore, they catch you, it’s an actual felony.”_

_“It’s just a lil’ weed, and it’s not like I’m some big time dealer.” John said. Arthur scowled and threw up his hands. “You ain’t complaining about the extra cash!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him._

Most of his clients being local kids or skids who couldn’t afford more than a little here and there. He tucked the extra bags back into the box, turning off the scale and tossing it in with the bags and snapping the lid closed. He slid the box back under the bed with his foot.

\-- ♦ --

He had just kind of fell into this when they moved here. His dad found work at a local railyard, looking to make a fresh start after his mom died. A couple kids had found him smoking behind the gym and asked him if they could buy, and who couldn’t use the extra cash? 

He had taken them up on it, hoping to make some friends in the process. Except the other dealer in school had taken offense to and sent a couple of people to convince him to stop. It’s how he had met Arthur, he had stepped in. He had a strange reputation around the school, and not many people wanted to mess with him. 

“Thanks, but I would have been fine.” John picked up his bag.

“Didn’t look like it.” Arthur held out his hand. “I’m Arthur, and you’re bleeding.”

John wiped his sleeve across his face. “John.” He shook Arthur’s hand. 

“I’ve seen you around, you live near Gage Park?” 

John nodded, feeling extremely small next to him. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “Y-yeah. We just moved here. Dad got a job at the railyard.”

“Me too, we can walk together.” Arthur patted John on the shoulder and started down the road. 

\-- ♦ --

John picked up his other phone, dropping it into his jacket pocket before grabbing the bags off the desk and heading for the door. 

The sun had finally come out at around one, pushing the temperature into the high teens. John hated winter, the cold and the snow. He wrapped his jacket more tightly around himself picking up the pace as he made his way toward the park. His phone went off, another text. He fumbled for the personal phone in his pocket, pulling it out. 

_Got off early. Gonna play some ball, wanna join?_

_I’m already at the park._

_Jefferson?_

_Yeah_

_Cool, See you in 45_

John pocketed the phone as he rounded the corner and through the fence into the park. He wandered over toward the swings checking his phone for the time. He sat down in the seat, pushing his sneakers into the sand. He found a few kids looking to buy, selling a couple of dimes before his actual client showed up, he pocketed the cash and started toward the basketball courts.

He tossed his bag underneath the hoop, the impact causing the fresh snow to billow out.The light dusting on the court flurried in the wind dancing across the blacktop. It’d been a while since they had played, Arthur had been so busy lately. He kicked at the snow drifts along the courtside.

“You’re gonna play in that?” John turned to see Arthur walking toward him.

“Not like I had planned to play, I was already out when you texted.” 

Arthur laughed. “Coulda brought you a change of clothes, ya know.” He tossed the basketball at John. 

John caught the ball and began to dribble it lazily.

“S’fine. It’s one-on-one, a friendly game.” He tossed the ball back to Arthur. “Don’t know how you aren’t freezing your ass off right now though.” Arthur looked down at himself, his shorts and sweatshirt not seeming that out of place for a game, but he knew John hated the cold.

“Me? You’re gonna tear those jeans, how do you even get those on?” John scowled and Arthur smirked, giving him a quick shove. “C’mon, let’s play.”

The sun was starting to set when they finished. John was exhausted, he was gonna have to admit he was out of shape, he exhaled heavily and looked over at Arthur. Steam rose off him as he breathed heavily, the ball tucked under his arm. John had managed to pull out a win, scoring the last shot before Arthur called the game, stating that it was getting late and he was getting hungry. 

“That was a good game Johnny. That three-pointer was impressive as hell! I take it back, maybe I should get me some of those painted on jeans.” He clapped a hand to John’s shoulder. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

They walked together, bullshitting down the street, the same road home John always took. They stopped at the corner to wait for the light when an older man shouted at them.

“Hey. Hey! You’re that kid!” The boys turned around, glaring at the man who jogged across the street to meet them. Arthur’s body language stiffened next to John and his expression went stony. “You never called me.”

“Yeah.” Arthur snarled. “You were a weird adult.” The gentleman ignored him, his attitude just as chipper. 

“You still wrestling?” He looked him over and Arthur shifted under his gaze.

“No.” John could feel the ice in his voice, colder than the evening winter air. He stepped between them, worried that Arhur was going to hit the man.

“Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck is this?” He turned back to Arthur, his eyes locked on the man. Arthur towered over the man, and for the first time John saw what had made Arthur intimidating to others all those years ago. The gentleman glanced over at John, his eyes drifting back to Arthur.

“You’re bigger.” Arthur straightened up to his full height, his patience at an end. He felt the anger bubble in him as this man sized him up, clearly unfazed by Arthur’s intimidation. “My offer still stands, _if_ you’re still looking to fight.” The message was received and Arthur bristled more. 

_He_ **_was_ ** _goading Arthur. Pushing him, to see if he still was as quick to anger._

“This is my gym.” He thumbed behind him and Arthur’s eyes followed the gesture glancing at the name _Bessie’s Bane_ before returning to his face. 

“Sure.” Arthur turned away from the man, stalking past him and down the street, leaving John and the man alone. John glanced after Arthur, before turning back to the stranger and glowering. He took off after Arthur, leaving the man standing alone in the street, a smug smile on his face. John caught up to Arthur two blocks down, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Hey, slow down. What the fuck was that? Who is that?” John spun Arthur around.

“Nothing. Just some guy from high school.” Arthur grumbled, the heat still radiating off him.

“You gotta take him up on his offer, dude!” 

Arthur barked out a laugh, his expression painted with surprise. “WHAT? Fuckin’ why?” He cocked a brow at John.

“Bro. This is EXACTLY how the _Karate Kid_ started!” 

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and rolled back onto his heels. “Are you fucking serious?”

“ARE YOU NOT? Some mysterious stranger asks you to train at his gym and you say no?” 

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “John…”

“Arthur, come on. What have you got to lose? He’s creepy and you kick his ass.” John’s eyes were pleading.

“Yeah...sure.” Arthur dismissed, turning to head back toward the house. John shivered in the cold night air as Arthur left, jogging after him.

Arthur flipped on the lights in the apartment and dropped the ball onto the floor, trapping it with his foot. John followed him in, dropping his bag into the computer chair and grabbing his blanket off the bed before slinking over to the couch.

“That’s gross.” Arthur scolded. “At least go take a shower if you’re cold.” 

John ignored him, burritoing himself on the couch and reaching for the remote. Noodle growled from the floor, climbing his way up the side of the sofa before burrowing his way into the pile of blankets that was John. 

Arthur opened the fridge, pulled out a number of ingredients and then moved to the cupboard to pull down the worn recipe book and the lasagna noodles. He flipped through the book stopping on a well worn page. He soaked the noodles and prepped the sauce, layering the lasagna and tossing it into the oven. 

“Lasagna’s in the oven. I’m gonna take a shower. Keep an eye on it.” Arthur closed the bathroom door. John grunted that he heard him, nuzzling deeper into the blankets.

Arthur turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain, stepping out of the tub. He wiped the condensation from the mirror, his eyes wandering over his reflection. 

_You’re bigger_. 

The words echoed in his head and he inhaled deeply. He had filled out in the last couple years and grown a few more inches. He had kept his strength up working in the butcher shop, but he had softened overall. Arthur ran his hand through his hair, shaking the excess water from it. He picked up the electric razor, trimmed down his beard and inspected the cut in the mirror before flicking off the light and going to get dressed. 

The smell of the lasagna filled the apartment as he threw on some lounge pants and returned to the kitchen, pulling open the oven door and removing the bubbling pasta. Arthur dished out the lasagna and brought it to the couch, motioning for John to take it. 

Wiggling out of the blanket he took the plate, it felt heavy in his hands. He was going to be sore tomorrow, he could feel it. John dug into the plate, only now realizing how hungry he was. He glanced over to see Arthur finish his off, getting up to get himself seconds.

The pasta warmed his insides, and John finally started to feel normal. His eyes grew heavy as he watched the TV. Noodle snored lightly on his chest. He drifted off to sleep, unable to keep his eyes open.

Arthur’s alarm went off and he groaned, stretching out his sore muscles. He stood and started to get ready for work. Noodle stretched out on his pillow before slithering beneath the pillow to keep warm. He grabbed his bag from the floor and packed some clothes into it, grabbing Noodle from under the pillow, hushing him and taking him over to the couch where John was cocooned in a giant blanket. He placed Noodle on the blanket and watched as the ferret burrowed his way into the warmth of the blankets.

“So. You gonna check out that gym?” John asked, his eyes still closed. Arthur turned and walked out the door.

The rest of the day passed slowly, Arthur’s mind preoccupied with what John had said. Was it insane that he was going through with it? This whole idea that this was a once-in-a-lifetime thing? He was mad at himself for getting excited for the possibility. The man was a creep, right? Who was he? Some recruiter? Why was he there that night?

“Arthur -- Arthur. Kid. You with us?” Pearson reached out, putting his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur tensed under his hand.

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m here. What’s up?” He put down the broom.

“Could you come help me pull this carcass for dressing?” Pearson started toward the back with Arthur in tow. “What’s got you so lost in your own head?”

“Had a weird encounter last night.” 

“Someone was able to creep you out?” Pearson turned around, an incredulous look painted on his face.

“Let me ask you something.” Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Some guy tells you he wants you to come fight for him, would you? This guy, who you’ve only ever met once before, back when you were a minor. That’s weird, right? Weirder that he remembers you like 4 years later, and confronts you about it on the street?” He paused then muttered. “Weirder still that I am thinkin’ of takin’ him up on his offer...”

Pearson laughed. An over-the-top sound that startled Arthur and he scowled.

“Listen, even if this guy is a freak. Look at you, you can take him. What’s the worst that happens if you go? They tell you that you can’t leave? Then make them let you. You pass this up? You’ll never know if this was your golden ticket.” Pearson waved him back to work. “I’ll be honest though, I’d be lyin’ if it wouldn’t suck if it was true and you left me. I like you kid. You’re a hard worker. So even if it does come up for shit, you always got a job here.” 

“T-thanks.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, a smile creeping across his face. He pulled down the pig and hauled it over his shoulder, his legs screaming from the game last night. He dropped it onto the table for Pearson and went back to the front, his head a little clearer.

The remaining hours passed with him feeling a bit better about his choice. He stretched as he put his apron back onto the hook behind the door, grabbing his bag from the chair in the corner. He waved a goodbye to Pearson and made his way toward the gym.

\-- ♦ --

Arthur stood outside, looking up at the faded sign that hung over the entryway. He readjusted the bag over his shoulder. The panic rising in his chest that he was making a terrible mistake, he paced on the sidewalk, Thinking back to what John had said. If this really was once-in-a-lifetime what would happen if he wasn’t good enough?

“Oi!” A voice called out and Arthur stopped. “You can’t loiter, it’s private property. Get in or get lost, tiny.” The man in the door crossed his arms. Arthur glowered and turned toward the door. The man threw up his hands in frustration. “I mean it.” 

Arthur moved toward the door, his eyes throwing daggers at the doorman. He shoved past the man as he held the door open for him.

“Take your time, buddy.” He sneered as Arthur passed and it took every ounce of his control to not slam the man into the door. He pushed into the lobby and the man let the door close behind them.

A hand on his shoulder made Arthur turn, the gap-tooth grin of the man made Arthur recoil. The strange man chuckled.

“Yer a big sonovabitch!” He stepped back, taking Arthur in. “Sean.” He held out a hand. “This is Bessie’s Bane.” Arthur took his hand nervously.

“Arthur. Ya’ll got lockers?” Arthur pulled his hand back, and Sean nodded toward the back of the gym.

Arthur wandered through the gym toward the locker room, checking out the offerings. He ducked into the locker room and changed. He walked over and checked out the ring, two fighters were sparring loosely. A familiar voice called out from behind him.

“Curiosity got the better of you.” The older man stepped beside him.

“You could say that.” 

“And? First impressions?” The man crossed his arms over his chest.

“That kid is a douche.” Arthur said, motioning to Sean.

“He is. So, want a tour?” The man turned and started back toward the free weights.

“Why me?” Arthur paused. “And who _are_ you? He started after him. The man stopped at a boxing bag hanging in a far corner.

“Show me what you got and I’ll tell you.” 

Arthur rolled back onto his heels, crossing his arms. “You know how creepy that sounds, right?” 

The man shot him a look of annoyance. “Hosea. Hosea Matthews. Listen kid, you weren’t cut out for wrestling. The way you move. Your control, the way you read your opponents moves before they even think about them themselves. You were being wasted in wrestling.”

“It was a school sport, it _really_ wasn’t that serious.” 

Hosea grabbed the bag. “There is real money in this, _if_ you have what it takes.”

“And what’s that, exactly?” 

Hosea smacked the bag. “Whatever keeps you on your feet and winning.” 

Arthur frowned. “That ain’t an answer. That could be literally anything.” He deadpanned.

“Just show me a coupled good hits.” He patted the bag again and Arthur loosened his stance. “You ever heard of MMA?”

“Sure, just didn’t think there were whole gyms dedicated to it.” Arthur delivered three heavy hits to the bag. Hosea watched him, his expression impossible to read.

“Again, but this time pretend it can hit back.”

Arthur transferred his weight to the balls of his feet and danced around the bag. He jabbed quickly at the bag, landing three hits in a quick succession before bringing in a final heavy hit.

“Again, more power.” Hosea stepped back from the bag.

Arthur growled, his first strike sending the bag in a high arc. He spun around, his leg catching the bag and thrusting it angrily to the side. He dodged the imaginary return blow ducking low and releasing a flurry of blows into the side of the bag. Hosea smiled. 

Arthur continued to pummel the bag, the stress and anger from the week melting away. His arms fell to his sides. Exhaling slowly, he stopped the bag with his hands, his eyes flaring. Hosea chuckled, his hand finding Arthur’s shoulder.

“There it is. C’mon. TOMMY!” 

Hosea turned Arthur and led him toward the ring. Out of his peripheral he saw a large man lumber toward the ring, the man called out as he reached the ropes.

“Yeah?” The rope bowed heavily under his weight.

“Tommy. This is Arthur, he needs a sparring partner, want some ring time?”

The men touched gloves as they started the fight, each squaring off. Tommy took the first swing, moving to try and break Arthur’s defenses, knocking him back onto the heels of his feet. The second hit connecting with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He doubled over and a knee connected with his face. Arthur swung wide as he reeled back, catching Tommy square in the jaw with his fist.

Both men took a staggered step back before returning to their defense stances, Arthur wiping the blood from his nose. Each sizing the other up. Arthur danced around some of Tommy’s heavier hits, taking only glancing blows. His speed, the only advantage he had. His blows seemingly ineffective against the mountain that was Tommy.

Hosea watched them, his eyes on Arthur, watching his movements. Each time he adjusted his fighting style Hosea smiled. The men slowed as the fight wore on and Hosea called it. 

Tommy’s giant hand clapped down heavily on Arthur’s shoulder “You’re damn good kid, keep up the work.” He turned and headed off toward the locker rooms. 

Hosea leaned against the ropes next to Arthur. Arthur chugged back water, wiping the rest of the blood and sweat from his face onto his towel.“So? Come fight for me?” 

Arthur huffed out a laugh, his skin on fire with adrenaline, a huge smile crossing his face. “You got yourself a fighter, old man.” He held out a hand to Hosea who shook it firmly.

Arthur slid out of the ring and made his way back to the locker room, his breathing returning to normal. He grabbed his things and headed out the door. 

\-- ♦ --

Arthur unlocked the door and stepped inside, tossing his bag next to the door. John looked up as he entered, the color draining from his face. 

“Holy shit, dude! Are you okay?!” John yelped. The black eye bloomed on Arthur’s face. The blood from his nose and split lip spotted the front of his sweatshirt, the sleeve smeared with blood. Arthur smiled at him, holding up his hands.

“I’m okay Johnny!” He pushed past John into the bathroom, stripping off his sweatshirt and tossing it into the sink. John’s fears were not put to rest as he looked at Arthur’s back covered with deep red bruises already starting to look angry. Arthur flipped the water on in the shower, letting it warm up and walked toward the kitchen. He pulled baking soda and vinegar from the cabinet. 

John stepped behind him, blocking his way back to the bathroom, puffing himself up. “Seriously dude, what happened?”

“I went to the gym, that’s all.” He pushed John gently out of the way and headed back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

John paced the room. _This was all his fault! He got Arthur hurt, because he wanted to believe that this could be some kind of big break for him._ He crumpled onto the couch, his head falling into his hands. 

Arthur opened the bathroom door a while later, his cuts bandaged and cleaned. The red bruises angry against his skin as he pulled a shirt from the rack. John pushed up off the couch and Arthur threw the shirt over his head.

“You really got your ass kicked...at the gym?” John crossed his arms, still not convinced this wasn’t just Arthur trying to protect him or close him out. 

Arthur pulled on the shirt and chuckled. “Yeah. Dude was built like a fuckin’ brick wall!” He flopped down onto the couch. He grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels. John sighed, dropping back onto the arm of the couch.

“Sorry…I told you to go” He mumbled. 

Arthur let the remote fall to his side. Glancing over to John. “Nah bro. Thank you, really. It was amazing!” He picked the remote up, flipping through the channels again. “Hosea wants me to come by tomorrow, get me started on a regiment.” John looked down at Arthur, stunned into silence.

He watched Arthur, his feelings bubbling through him. Still blaming himself for how hurt Arthur got, but conflicted with how at peace he seemed. John watched as Noodle scrambled onto Arthur’s chest, curling up, Arthur’s large bandaged hand gently scritching the ferret. John glanced down at the floor, guilt overtaking him again.

“You hungry?” Arthur turned to John and he propped himself up onto his elbow. “Hey, you okay?” John kept his eyes trained on the floor. Arthur leaned over, reaching for John as Noodle rolled off him onto the couch.

“John, you didn’t do this. I am fine, honestly! It’s just a couple of cuts and bruises, no worse than I used to get during wrestling. I had a blast!” He shook John’s leg. “Come with me tomorrow!” John looked up at him, knitting his eyebrows. “Find out for yourself, since I can’t convince you.” 

John breathed out a short laugh shaking his head. A smile washed over Arthur’s face. He patted John’s leg and rolled back onto the couch.

“Fine.” He pushed up off the couch and walked over to the kitchen. “How about pizza?”


	2. Bessie's Bane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur keeps his promise to John.  
> John makes a new friend.  
> Hosea offers Arthur a chance to change his life.

Arthur pulled open the door to the gym and held it for John. “You ain’t got any clothes to work out in?” He looked down at John’s jeans. 

“Why do I need different clothes to work out?” John huffed and brushed past him and into the building, stopping just past the threshold. “This place smells like shit.” 

Sean lazily turned his attention from the computer as the boys entered.

“You sure you ain’t smelling your own ass?” He snarked. 

John spun around to face him as Arthur’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“Who the fuck are you?” John spit, fighting briefly in Arthur’s grip before relenting.

“Shut up. John.” He nodded to the wiry redhead. “Sean.”

“Jesus, you get hit by a truck? Tommy sure did a number on you.” Sean shook his head at Arthur. “You got him good too, I guess.” He shrugged and Arthur raised his eyebrow. “You two match.” Sean gestured to Arthur’s black eye. “Think you mighta broke his nose.” 

Sean’s eyes wandered back to John, looking him up and down. “So, this emo piece of shit your boyfriend or sumthin’?”

John pulled free from Arthur’s grasp, quickly crossing over and getting in Sean’s face. “The fuck did you just say, you fire-crotched bitch?”

Sean met his gaze, squaring up, despite John having a couple inches on him. “I’m just surprised is all.” He leaned back onto his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. “He could definitely do better than _you_.”

John shoved him roughly, pulling his arm back to throw a punch before Arthur caught his shoulder again. “He’s my roommate. John, this sonofabitch is Sean. And _this_ is his only skill.” He grumbled.

Hosea appeared from behind the ring, glancing up over from his clipboard. “I don’t pay you to get your ass kicked, get back to work!” He shouted.

Sean’s eyes flashed to Hosea before his gaze returned to John. He smirked and took his leave.

“Let’s go.” Arthur squeezed his hand on John’s shoulder and headed toward the locker room. John glanced toward Sean once more as he walked away before following Arthur.

Arthur placed his things into a locker and closed the door. John leaned heavily against the lockers, still prickling from what was said.

“Ignore him, he thrives on getting under your skin.” Arthur stretched his arm across his chest and John growled. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.” He started back toward the gym floor when Hosea appeared in the doorway.

“You look a bit worse for wear.” Hosea said, blocking the doorway. He took a long look at Arthur’s face. “You can see alright?” 

“Heh, it’s not too bad. Doesn’t even hurt. Just a black eye is all.” He carded his fingers through his hair nervously. He felt John walk up behind him, thankful for an excuse to move the attention. “Hosea, ‘bout time you met John properly.” 

Hosea’s gaze moved to John behind Arthur, a devilish smirk crossing his face. “You’re the same one from the other night.” 

John’s eyes narrowed and he pushed past Arthur and into Hosea’s space. “The fuck kind of gym you running here?”

Hosea glanced over at Arthur, confused. Arthur groaned and yanked John back, growling in annoyance.

“John! I told you I was fine, leave it the fuck alone.” Hosea reached out, resting it gently on Arthur’s hand.

“You know, I didn’t _force_ him to do anything. Kid could have walked away at any point. All I did was ask him to push himself, if he was serious.”

Arthur felt the fight leave John, the same sadness from the night before taking over. He sighed, his voice softer. “Why don’t we go take a look around. Check out the rest of the gym, maybe see if this is some place you want to work out.” He gave John a gentle pat on the back.

“Actually,” Hosea said “I need to speak with Arthur a bit, if you don’t mind. How about I have someone show you around?” 

John followed Hosea’s gaze to see Sean futzing around on the old computer near the front door. He prickled. “That asshole?”

Hosea ignored the outburst, his voice even-keeled. “Yeah, it’s his job. I gotta pay him to do _something_. Sean! Get over here!” 

The redhead pushed himself away from the computer and joined them in the locker room, leaning heavily against the lockers near the doorway.

“Give John the tour.” Hosea ordered without looking over at him.

He pushed himself off the lockers and offered John a saccharine smile, clapping him on the shoulder and snaking his hand around John’s shoulders. He stiffened briefly under the touch.

Leading John out of the locker rooms and back into the main gym, Sean weaved through the floor to the front once more. John shrugged out of his grasp and shot him a steeled look.

“So…” Sean leaned against the front counter. “That huge bitch is your...roommate?”

“Yes. Best friend since high school.” John replied shortly.

“Ya’ll in college then?” He pushed off the counter and led John down a row of treadmills along the front wall, following it along to the free weights and ropes.

“Nah.” John rubbed his neck. “College wasn’t really for me, and Arthur, he works too much.”

“So what’dya do? This don’t really seem like your thing.”

John frowned. “What do ya mean? I can fight.” He looked Sean up and down. “Besides, you’re one to talk.”

“Hey! I just work here. Have my whole life.” Sean shrugged, and John raised an eyebrow.

“He your dad or something?”

“Nah, dad used to fight for Hosea. Back when he was a manager for the WWE”

“Dude, seriously?!” John’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, you heard of Seamus Shillelagh?” His voice full of pride.

“I was more of a Big Show fan myself. But I remember him. How are you not into this shit?”

Sean deflated a bit, looking down toward the ground. “Mom didn’t want me fighting.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, that....and…” John gestured broadly at Sean, who forced a fake laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re one to talk.” He pushed a finger into John’s soft stomach. “You’re roommate is built like a fuckin’ tank and you’re this butterball?”

John slapped his hand away and grunted. “I’m here aren’t I?”

Sean chuckled, clapping John on the shoulder. “I’m just messin’ with ya, dude. Don’t take it all so seriously.” 

John didn’t respond, letting Sean lead him farther into the gym. The silence between them only lasted a few minutes before Sean moved on with the tour.

“That is the boxing ring. You have to sign up for time most evenings, but during the day it’s pretty much open.” The hand on John’s shoulder pointed to the ring on their right.

John glanced at the empty ring, imagining Arthur getting his ass kicked the night before, he clenched his jaw. 

Sean continued his relentless questioning. “So what’dya do if you’re not a student?” 

“I’m in business for myself.” He muttered, his eyes still locked on the ring.

“So, you sell drugs.” Sean’s eyebrow ticked up, a smirk playing at his mouth.

“Heh” John exhaled with surprise, breaking his gaze with the ring. “Yeah.” 

“And him?” Sean thumbed quickly toward the direction that Hosea and Arthur disappeared.

“Butcher.”

“For real? I would have guessed he was on a construction crew, or a firefighter, or something.”

“He wrestled in high school? I guess that is where Hosea first saw him?” 

Sean stopped, confusion flickered across his face for a moment. “ Wait, how old are you?”

“Eighteen.” 

“No shit?! Me too!” He paused. “Arthur is only eighteen?!”

John scoffed. “No, he is twenty-two. What school are you going to then?’

Sean shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ve spent most of my life here, Hosea needs me here.” His lips curled into a slight smile. “Who has time for school?”

John nodded in understanding and Sean tilted his chin and motioned for John to follow him. 

They continued on the tour, walking past the strength machines and stopping in front of the cage. 

“Never met a dealer before, least not one who claimed it was their only job. How’d you even get into that?” 

“Kind of fell into it after I moved here.” John shrugged. “Honestly, I was smokin’ one day at school and some kids caught up to me, asked me if I was holding and I said yes. It was as good an excuse as any to not have to rely on dad for money.” 

“And what, Arthur was your security detail?” 

John chuckled, throwing his head back. “I’m not a big time mafioso or some shit like that! It’s just a little weed.” He shook his head in disbelief. “He does his shit, I do mine.”

Sean leaned in closer, dropping his voice to just above a whisper. 

“You holding now?”

“Uhh no. Arthur drug me along to prove that him getting his ass kicked here wasn’t the end of the world. He doesn’t like it if I have it on me when we’re out anyhow.”

“He doesn’t like you selling? Sounds like more than a roommate, dude.” 

“He’s my best friend, he worries.” John muttered.

“Your best friend?! What about me?” Sean frowned deeply.

“I _literally_ just met you.” John shot Sean a look of mild annoyance.

“Oh come on now, you’re hurting my feelings. I thought we were friends. I showed you my gym!” 

“Your gym?” John deadpanned. 

Sean ignored him, continuing. “You told me you were a drug dealer, and I told you about my da. If that don’t make us friends…”

John rolled his eyes, moving closer to the octagon. “You really haven’t ever fought in here?” He laced his fingers into the netting of the cage. 

Sean walked past him, pulling a keyring from his belt and unlocking the door, he opened it and stepped inside. “Now I didn’t say that. It’s been a while though. Back when Hosea first started moving more toward MMA.” He looked down at John, holding the door open. “You ever been in a ring?” 

John pushed off the netting and shook his head, joining Sean in the cage. “Most my fighting was with other kids, nothing so professional.” John took in the cage, the surreal feeling of how small it made him feel. Sean watched him circle the mat.

“So, are you even interested in this shit? This is more of Arthur’s thing, yeah?”

John shrugged, leaning against one of the posts. “Not sure, and yeah he was the wrestler. I’m just the one who couldn’t believe he got that beat up at a real gym.” 

“He _did_ fight Tommy.” Sean pointed lazily at a man who was busy re-racking some weights from the chest press. John glanced at where Sean pointed before doing a double take. The man was enormous, his arms flexed as he pulled the weights from the bar and John’s jaw dropped.

_Arthur fought him?! Why?_

“Jesus‒ Fuck! _That’s_ Tommy?!” 

Sean laughed. “Yeah. All things considered your boy came out lookin’ pretty good.” 

Tommy turned and John noticed the deep circles under his eyes. He smiled and shook his head.

_So he did break Tommy’s nose, guess he didn’t do too bad._

\-- ♦ --

Hosea pushed open the door and stepped inside, holding the door open for Arthur, ushering him into the room. Arthur paused past the threshold as Hosea closed the door behind him. He looked around the room, which opened into a small kitchen. 

_Shit, this is bigger than our apartment._

The room wrapped around behind a small wall to the right and Arthur couldn’t see what laid on the other side.

“Make yourself comfortable, coffee?” Hosea walked past him and into the kitchen. “You came back, so you were serious about your answer last night.” 

Arthur nodded and took a seat at the small table. “ Yeah. That, and John was gonna kill me in my sleep if I didn’t prove this place was a real gym.” 

Hosea chuckled as he pulled the pot from the machine and pulled down two mugs. He poured two generous cups before placing the carafe on the table between them, pushing one towards Arthur. “Cream or Sugar?” Hosea pulled open the small refrigerator door, pulling a carton of creamer out and tipping a small amount into his coffee.

“Black’s just fine.” Arthur held up a hand and pulled the mug closer.

Hosea shrugged and placed the creamer back into the door letting it close. He joined Arthur at the table, taking a swig from his mug. “I wanted to talk to you about if you were really serious about fighting for me.” He eyed Arthur over the rim as he took another sip.

Arthur leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the chair, a smile breaking across his face. “Of course, if you’ll still have me.” He joked, lifting the mug to his lips. 

“Well then, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” Hosea’s eyes hardened. “You’re out of shape, it’ll be a long, hard road to get you ready to fight.”

Arthur deflated slightly, he had known that he wasn’t in fighting shape, but it didn’t make it easier to hear someone else say it. 

“We need to get you measured up. When was the last time you were regularly working out?”

Hosea took another sip and pushed up from the table. He left the mug on the table and crossed the room and around the half wall. Arthur’s eyes followed him as he picked up a pad of paper from a desk tucked into the back corner of the room.

“It’s been a while.” Arthur said quietly. “Mostly my exercise has been from work or playing basketball in the park.”

“Join me over here.” Notepad in hand Hosea moved toward a small bathroom in the back of the room, a scale stood against the wall outside the door. “What line of work are you in?”

Arthur threw back the rest of his coffee, pushed up from the table and joined Hosea. He motioned for Arthur to step onto the scale.

“Butcher.” Arthur stepped up.

“And your height?” Hosea manipulated the weights on the scale.

“Six-four, if you believe the corner store.” He smiled sheepishly and Hosea’s lips pursed in annoyance.

“Two fifty-seven.” Arthur winced. Hosea scribbled the number into the notepad, reaching down he unlatched the slider and adjusted the height rod. “Stop slouching and stand up straight.” 

Hosea slid the bar down until it touched the top of Arthur’s head before locking it into place. “Hundred and ninety-five centimeters.” He tapped Arthur’s arm and motioned that he was free to step off the scale. 

Arthur stepped down and leaned heavily against the wall, he knew he had put on weight, laxed his work outs, especially since Pearson had increased his hours. But that number hit him like a freight train. 

_Two fifty-seven? Jesus, you fat fuck._

He inhaled deeply, waiting for Hosea to come down on him, like all his coaches before, and his dad before that. Hosea wrote the height down on the paper and looked over at Arthur.

“Take it that number was a shock to you?” Hosea crossed his arms. “Last thing, lose the shirt. I need to take measurements.” 

Arthur sighed and pushed off the wall, pulling his shirt over his head and stood straight, waiting for Hosea’s instruction. 

Hosea disappeared into the bathroom briefly, returning with a cloth tape measure. He handed one end to Arthur.

“Hold this with the tip lined up with your finger tip and put your arms out. I need to get a measure of your reach.” 

“Two-oh-nine point six.” He jotted the number onto the page. 

The next fifteen minutes were spent gathering measurements in silence. Marking down the different numbers, Arthur’s eyes locked on the floor. The feeling of being judged was never something he got used to or comfortable with, but he knew better than to complain or fight it.

Hosea draped the tape measure around his neck and tucked the pencil behind his ear. He walked back toward the desk in the corner, tossing the notepad onto the desk, he took a seat. 

He waved Arthur over to the desk and motioned for him to sit. Pulling the notepad closer he looked over the numbers as Arthur pulled his shirt back over his head and took a seat.

“I’d like to start you training four times a week. You’re still pretty fit, despite not working out regularly. Though there is room for improvement.” He scrawled some more notes onto the notepad, reaching his freehand into the desk and producing a folder. 

“I’m gonna need you to see a doctor, get you cleared to fight. I’ll start putting together a workout plan in the meantime. You’ve got a good base, but I’d like to see a bit more bulk on you.”

“More bulk…” Arthur muttered.

“You have the frame for it. You’ll likely lose weight, but we will add mass, in the right places.” Hosea continued to write, not looking up. “You’re free to work out this week, but we can’t start your training until I have your clean bill of health. I recommend starting with roadwork...cardio, and some strength training.” 

Arthur nodded and pushed up from the chair. “I’ll get in to see the doctor as soon as I can.” 

“Come see me when you’re done, I should have a contract for you.” Hosea glanced up as Arthur moved toward the door. His expression softened and the fire lit up his eyes. “You’re gonna do great things, kid.”

Arthur paused, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he opened the office door. 

\-- ♦ --

The door to the stairwell opened and Arthur made his way back onto the gym floor. He rounded the corner into the locker room, pulling his headphone and Zune from his bag. The locker secured he made his way back out onto the floor. Moving toward the front of the building he picked the treadmill closest to the wall. He scrolled through his playlists, the hard pounding guitar started up and he set the machine to an easy pace.

He truly enjoyed running, a time when he could get lost, forget the thoughts that frequently pestered him. Time melted away when he ran and sometimes it was all he needed. He felt his lungs begin to burn, it had really been a while and he was painfully aware of how out of shape he was. 

The rhythmic thump of the bass in his ears matching the pace of his run as he pushed forward, bumping up the pace, not letting himself stop. He caught his second wind, his breathing moving in line with his stride. Pushing past the first hour he felt his legs begin to burn, glancing down at the display he switched down the speed to a light jog. The cool down kicked in on the machine, the numbers flashing with his time and distance. He laced his fingers behind his head, gulping the air as he tried to regulate his heart rate.

The clock countdown hit zero and the machine slowed to a stop. Arthur lifted his shirt, wiping the sweat from his face, wincing slightly as he passed over his nose. He stretched his arms above his head, letting the shirt fall. Stretching out his legs as he stepped down from the treadmill, he walked slowly to the water fountain. His legs a bit wobbly from the run. 

The water was cold and he felt it settle in his stomach as he pushed away from the fountain. He moved to the mat and began his warm ups, bouncing lightly front leg to leg, throwing some light jabs. He circled the space, alone in this part of the gym, he continued his jabs, occasionally throwing in a leg sweep. 

Arthur’s warm ups continued for a while. Rolling one of the medicine balls into the space, starting to add weighted squats and burpees to his sets. Too involved to notice John approach him from across the floor, Sean following behind him.

“Arthur.” John called as he crossed the floor, a few of the other members looking up. “Arthur!” John’s said a bit louder. 

Arthur continued his work-out, the music drowning out John’s shouts. A hand on his shoulder caused him to stiffen and he pulled his headphones down as he turned, John’s face scrunched in annoyance.

“We’ve been waiting forever, and you’re just workin’ out?” Sean appeared at John’s side and Arthur sighed, dropping the medicine ball and stretching deeply.

“We came to work out, I’m working out.” Arthur wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt, his voice tinged with annoyance.

“You didn’t think to come _find_ me when you were done with Hosea?” 

Arthur shrugged, pulling the headphones back on and nodding at Sean. “I assumed you’d join me when you were finished with the tour.” 

He picked the medicine ball back up and carried it back toward the rack. He picked up the ropes tethered at one end to the wall and pulled them out, dropping them onto the mat. He turned back to John, motioning for him to back up. John grunted and took a step back, opening his mouth to talk back, Arthur cut him off.

“Go warm up, I’ll show you how to use the ropes.” Arthur turned and picked up the ropes.

John huffed and rolled his eyes, looking over at Sean, who shrugged and moved his way to the far wall leaning heavily against it, watching Arthur. John sighed, knowing that Arthur wasn’t going to argue with him, he turned and moved off to the side to stretch.

Sean watched John as he started his stretches, he turned his attention back to Arthur, waving a hand at him. “You good?” 

Arthur’s eyes went to Sean’s lips, leaving his headphones on, the music still thumping in his ears. His eyes flicking back up to meet Sean’s and he nodded, starting to swing the ropes in opposing waves.

Sean pushed up off the wall, his eyes still on Arthur as he started his sets on the battle rope. He wandered over to where John was stretching out, his eyebrow raised, he jerked a thumb back to Arthur.

“He okay?”

“Yeah, he gets like this when he has a goal.” John swung his arms across his chest, pulling his knees up to his chest one-at-a-time. He clapped his hand onto Sean’s shoulder and pushed past him, joining Arthur as he dropped the ropes to the floor.

Arthur looked up at John as he approached and pulled his headphones down letting them rest on his shoulders. John cracked his neck and stretched his hands as he reached Arthur.

“Ready?” Arthur put his hands on his hips, chest heaving from exertion. “No Cardio?”

“Nah.” John shook his head and Arthur chuckled dryly.

“Wrong shoes?” He motioned for John to pick up the ropes. “Grab those, we will start with slams.”

Arthur showed John how to make the most of the battle ropes, watching John awkwardly work his way through the final set of jumping jacks before he threw the ropes onto the floor.

“Holy shit, that sucks.” John wheezed, his chest heaving. “Can’t we just do weights?” Doubled over, his hands on his knees as he tried to regulate his breathing.

“And I thought _I_ was out of shape.” Arthur shook his head, leaned down and grabbed the ropes, pulling them back and putting them away. John growled and followed him across the floor to the more familiar machines.

“Out of shape...right.” John muttered as Arthur moved to the leg press, leaving John to choose his preferred machine. 

Arthur ignored him, pulling his headphone back on and starting on his sets. Moving from each of the machines and pushing his limits. He heard John grumble over his music as he moved from machine to machine, finally moving to stand over Arthur as he finished his third set on the chest press. Arthur pushed the weight up into the cradle and sat up. His body trembled with exertion, John frowned.

“You want to take a break? You’ve been goin’ for close to 4 hours now.” John’s eyes burned into him, a worried look spread across his face.

“I’m fine.” Arthur pushed him back. Standing shakily he started to re-rack the weights.

“Arthur.” John put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re done for tonight. Let’s go home.”

“I need to go talk to Hosea.” Arthur said, continuing to re-rack the weights.

“Okay, then let’s go see Hosea.” 

Arthur pushed past him, making his way toward the heavy bags, his pace slowing as he passed the cage. John chased after him, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him forcefully.

“Arthur! Stop, you’re exhausted! Let’s just go talk to Hosea.”

Arthur looked back to the cage, a flood of nausea rolling over him. His eyes shifted to John and he exhaled slowly. “Alright.” He headed off toward the stairway up to Hosea’s office, John following closely behind.

\-- ♦ --

Hosea didn’t look up from his paperwork when he heard the sharp rap on the door. His glasses resting lightly on the end of his nose. Something he had needed to get used to in the last few years, only recently had Bessie convinced him that he could be seen with them on.

“How was the work out?” He scrawled a looping signature on the paper and put his pen down on the table, looking up as Arthur rounded the corner.

“It’s been a while,” he paused, “but it felt great.” Arthur stopped in front of the desk, a wave of nervousness washing over him. 

Hosea raised an eyebrow as John appeared around the corner as well, stopping just past the bookshelf sticking to the shadows.

“Sit.” Hosea motioned to the chairs in front of the desk, his eyes flicked over to John. “Both of you.”

The boys shuffled to the chairs, each taking a seat. Arthur shrunk into the chair. John dropped into the chair, his eyes cold as he stared back at Hosea. Hosea turned his attention back to Arthur, a warm smile across his face.

“I drew up a contract.” He slid it across the desk toward Arthur. “It’s pretty standard, two years, with an expectation for you to start fighting in six months.” He leaned back in the chair as Arthur picked up the paper, scanning over the page.

“You’ll be a representative of _Bessie’s Bane_ and you need to act as such.” He waved his hand lazily. “I don’t imagine it will be an issue, think of it as a formality.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, scanning over the representation clause. He knit his brow as he worked through the paragraph, he looked back at Hosea. 

“What’s that mean, exactly?” 

“Don’t go finding any trouble when you’re in public. Drunk and disorderly, fighting, getting arrested…” Hosea waved his hand in an on-and-on motion.

“I think we should start with four days of training a week, three hours each day. I outlined a bit more the training schedule there.” He leaned forward and pointed to a detailed section of the contract, sliding his finger down the page.

“Below that are some other stipulations, firstly, diet. I’m not gonna scold you on what is the best diet for what we are trying to achieve, I’m sure you know your body best. But lighten up on the pizza and beer.” 

John scoffed and Arthur shot him a warning look.

“More lean protein.” Hosea continued. “You a smoker?” 

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded. “I’ve been tryin’ to quit though.”

“Good, let’s work on quitting then.” He leaned back again, watching Arthur’s reaction. When he was satisfied that Arthur had taken that to heart, he continued.

“Now, when you start fighting, I’ll get fifteen percent of your signings, with an additional four percent of your first ten fights to cover our good-faith training. There is a standard merchandising clause, if that becomes a thing. We can discuss it more then. Finally, there is a five percent fee for appearances, when and if that becomes relevant.”

“Appearances? Really?” Arthur’s voice cracked slightly in disbelief. Hosea nodded.

Arthur poured over the contract, flipping from page-to-page, he looked up and glanced over at John. He didn’t know what he expected, but he was definitely out of his element, he had no idea if this was good or not, not without knowing how much any of this was likely to bring in. He clenched his jaw, still looking at John, he exhaled. “This seems all well and good, but I’m not exactly sure what kind of numbers we are talking about here. Appearances, Signings? What kind of money do those even bring in?” 

Hosea smiled. “Oh, well...Signings are whatever fight you sign up for, and those prices will vary, depending on how large the fight and who you’re fighting, but we will probably start you off in the tournaments that have one to five thousand dollar pots.” 

Arthur and John’s heads snapped to face Hosea. “They _start_ at one **_thousand_** dollars?” Arthur choked out.

“And appearances can range dramatically as well, depending on how well known you get.” Hosea smiled. “But that’s a talk for another time.”

Arthur turned back to John, a nervous chuckle escaped him. “I mean, this sounds too good to be true.” He looked back to Hosea.

“You don’t have to sign this today, take it home, look over it. Bring it back if you get your physical, we can work from there. Until then, you’re welcome to work out here.” 

His eyes slid over to John, who had leaned forward to look at the contract. “If you are gonna keep bringing him with you though, memberships are eighteen dollars a month.”

John stiffened and glared at Hosea. “I ain’t lookin’ for handouts!” John said defensively, digging through his pockets he slammed twenty dollars onto the table. “There, I’m paid through the month.”

Hosea chuckled and stood, swiping the bill off the table and into his pocket. “Well then. Welcome to Bessie’s Bane.” He held out his hand to John who continued to glare, no intention of taking his hand. Arthur stood and took Hosea’s hand, shaking it firmly.

“I’ll review this and get back to you.” He nodded slightly and put his hand on John’s shoulder, pushing him to his feet. “ Thank you so much for this opportunity. John.” His grip tightened momentarily. 

“Thank you, you have a _wonderful_ gym.” The sarcasm dripped from John’s voice and Arthur shoved him gently toward the door.

The boys headed downstairs and back through the main floor of the gym in silence. Arthur clutched the contract in his hands, his mind spinning, still not sure if this was all a dream and he would wake up in his bed in their tiny apartment. He pulled his bag out of the locker, John still fuming beside him, and closed the door lightly.

“Are you gonna do it?” John asked as Arthur started toward the front door, trailing behind him.

“Honestly? I’m still not even sure this is real.” Arthur readjusted his bag, as they reached the front door, he turned and looked back into the gym. “This kind of shit just doesn’t happen, you know?”

John shrugged. “No, but this time it did. It’s a lot of potential money. And I just paid to join this gym, so...”

“That’s your problem. You took the bait.” He pushed open the door. “C’mon, let’s go home.”


End file.
